SHIANG

by C. F. Iggulden

  With no warning, Thomas suddenly raised his hands wide, palms out in welcome. He looked like a priest about to bless his congregation. Wind swirled suddenly past them from the woods, dragging leaves and a smell of damp through the clearing. On Gabriel’s other shoulder, Sanjin pointed slowly at one of the loggers. There was a moment of stillness, then the panicking gunman fired again.

  Gabriel flinched from the crack of sound, but Thomas did not. He faced the loggers as if he stood behind glass. Gabriel gaped when he saw the shots made embers in the air, slowing before Thomas in orange trails of heat. When they fell, they sizzled in the leaf mulch and mud.

  The man Sanjin had chosen boiled from the inside. Some of those standing closest began to retch when the smell of cooked meat began to steam from him. One eye popped white and the rest turned to run when they saw that. There was safety in the darkness and those who held torches threw them down.

  Those who were quickest survived. The rest perished as Gabriel or Thomas walked amongst them. Twice more, pistols were brought out and levelled at the intruders. Both times, Thomas made the air thick, so that the bullets showed as fireflies in the night. It was not long before the camp was silent beyond the crunch of their steps on frozen ground. Sanjin found the food store and came out with a huge vat of ale held in his arms. Thomas was grinning at him as Gabriel came alongside. He asked no question, but Thomas grinned wryly and answered even so.

  ‘I was behind you, brother, when we returned. If you can turn your hand to healing, I thought I should be able to do something. We had the power of that stone driven into us, like chips of dust under the skin. That’s what it is, isn’t it? The stone held an ocean – and we four were made to drink from it, or choke.’

  Both men turned at the sound of laughter. The Fool was playing with a head, in the mud, kicking it back and forth like a football.

  ‘The gift of the stone seems rather wasted on him,’ Thomas said.

  ‘Perhaps …’ Gabriel said. ‘I did think I might try to tap him, like a battery, or one of those spikes that dribble tree sap. If I can find a way to do that, he might yet be useful.’

  Silence fell again between them, until Thomas broke it. Excitement bubbled in him, like a man drunk for the very first time. He could not be still, though there was darkness all around.

  ‘I learned how to turn the wind away, up in the high passes. At first, it was just to lessen the sting of ice, but I found the trick of it, the concentration. I realised I was walking in calm, while the rest of you squinted. Then Sanjin started to melt snow.’

  ‘The wind died down,’ Gabriel said, in wonder. ‘I remember. What are we, Thomas? To be able to do such things?’

  Thomas laughed and shook his head.

  ‘I’ve practised every hour since then. It’s more than I ever dreamed, to be able to do this, brother. I can make air as hard as iron.’

  ‘Then I give thanks,’ Gabriel said, feeling something like a parent’s pride. He clapped Thomas on the shoulder. ‘You will be my shield.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Darien has the power of many stones. I’d like to go in like a thief and steal them away, but if I have to, I’ll break those walls down. I’ll kill their king and sit a second throne.’

  ‘Two seems a little greedy,’ Thomas said.

  Gabriel glanced at him and chuckled.

  ‘It does. Very well, Thomas. I’ll bend the knee to you in Darien, if you bend it to me in Shiang. How about that?’

  ‘What are you two smiling about?’ Sanjin said as he came up, dropping the cask of beer to the ground with a thud.

  ‘The future,’ Thomas said lightly. ‘Now, if I can find a few jugs and cups, I will toast the stones of Darien, I think. On such a night, it would be bad luck not to.’

  Marias listened to them talking. She stood with the Fool on his leash, away from the light of the torches. She knew Gabriel could turn and find her if he chose to. He always seemed to know exactly where she was. Those were the moments that hurt most, when she thought it had to be Taeshin looking so steadily at her. Then she would see him move with that unnatural speed, or speak so coldly she was amazed he had not killed her. Twice more she had called him Taeshin without thinking, but he had not followed through on his threats. It was the only thing that gave her hope. The one called Gabriel did not know her, but he had still saved her from Sanjin’s rough hand on her arm, back in the beginning. Was it by chance that Gabriel had walked just ahead of her through the high passes, shielding her from the cold? She did not think it was.

  Marias shivered in memory as she stood there in the darkness, wrapping her arms around herself. What a strange group they were. The Fool was an innocent of sorts, too ruined to know sin. Sanjin was a man of petty vengeances and hatreds. She had even warned Gabriel about him, though he’d laughed at her.

  She watched Gabriel smile at something Thomas had said, feeling love and misery. He was not Taeshin, not then. Sanjin came over to stand near them and Marias found herself edging away from his malice. Thomas seemed kind enough, though he too had killed without a moment’s hesitation. He frightened her, but it was more like a storm. A storm could surely kill you, but it would take no pleasure in it. That was not much of a comfort, she thought. She was over a thousand miles from home and everything she had ever known. The bodies of working men cooled on the ground around her and she stood with a ragged imbecile on a leash. Listening to the creaks and hisses of settling death, she felt stained by everything they did. Yet she would not run from them, not while there was a chance some part of Taeshin remained. Gabriel called himself a king, but her Taeshin was strong, stronger than even he had known. If anyone could find his way home, it would be him.

  Marias prayed in silence for a time, until Gabriel turned and looked directly at her in the darkness, as if he had known all along where she stood.

  ‘There you are, Marias! Will you look in on the camp kitchen for me? My stomach is cramped with hunger.’

  It is not your stomach, Marias thought as she went past him, her head bowed. The Fool went with her, smiling and blank as a mountain stream.

  Hondo was asleep in a chair when the clatter of running men startled him awake. There was nothing quite like the sound of marching ranks for bringing a man from slumber. After all, those who woke tended to survive to have children of their own. Those who remained asleep had not survived all the dark centuries of history.

  Hondo was still exhausted and a little confused. He yawned blearily, smacking his lips and looking around as he tried to see what had woken him. Dawn lit the room grey, with the street outside still pale and all colours washed out. Seated by the window of the room at the Red Inn, Hondo looked past trails of condensation onto the city of Darien.

  His eyes widened as he saw soldiers in green livery taking station down below, with more of them vanishing from sight as they entered the building. They were trying to be quiet, but Hondo could feel the vibrations of men. Further off, more soldiers in the same colours were dragging sawhorses across the road and waving passers-by around that junction.

  The swordsman came smoothly out of the chair. One glance at the bed told him Bosin was still deep in useless slumber. The big man’s fever had worsened the night before, but the nurses were keeping him cool with cloths and fresh water, doing everything they could. The women Burroughs had sent were both middle-aged and sensible-looking. They saw Hondo’s sudden agitation and stood by their charge with heads bowed.

  Hondo looked further to where the twin still slept, stretched out between an armchair and a footstool. It would have been unthinkable at home to be found so deeply asleep, but the journey across winter mountain, plain and forest had left them all less than they had been.

  Hondo rubbed his hand across his chin, enjoying the smoothness of oiled skin once more. The barber had cut him twice, which was actually not bad for a man working with Je’s sword laid across his throat.

  ‘Je!’ Hondo snapped.

  The twin was up and on his feet like a cat, his youth bringing him alert i
n an instant. Hondo tried not to feel a stab of envy. He still felt half-asleep. At least he had woken first, though he was twice the twin’s age.

  ‘Soldiers outside,’ Hondo said, jerking his head to the window.

  As he spoke, he knew it was hopeless. He was in his enemy’s heartland, while he knew almost nothing of the local customs. He thought he could probably escape through the window and be off over the roofs before they came up the stairs, but where would he be escaping to? He hesitated, wondering if he could leave Bosin to whatever foreign cruelty they would dream up for one such as he. Would they put him in a cage, or make him fight wolves in an arena? They’d lose an awful lot of wolves if they did. Hondo cursed softly to himself. He could not leave the big fool, any more than he would have abandoned the remaining twin. Some loyalties crept up on a man, whether he wanted them or not.

  As Hondo considered how best to defend the room, the door opened and a man came through. The fellow was followed by others on his heels, all wearing green patches or armour tinged in that colour. Hondo’s gaze remained on the first. He felt his mouth open, without any sound.

  ‘So this is the big one, is it?’ Tellius said, crossing the room and leaning over the enormous body. The mattress had proved too soft for one of his great weight. Bosin had sunk slowly into it, as if entombed by weak springs and horsehair. Tellius glanced up as Hondo dropped his hand to his sword.

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t draw that in here, Master Hondo.’

  Tellius had learned the man’s name and anything else he had been able to glean from Burroughs and the staff of the Red Inn.

  ‘You are Androvanus Yuan-Tellius?’ Hondo asked in shock. To have the man he had come to capture simply walk into his room was still too much to take in. Hondo saw the man’s expression tighten, confirming his suspicion. The right age – and the resemblance to the young king of Shiang was written in his cheeks and lips.

  ‘That is an old name. A strange name to use here,’ Tellius replied. ‘I have not heard it since I was a young man. It seems to me that anyone who might still use that name cannot possibly have a claim on me, not after so long. You came all the way from Shiang, Master Hondo! I’m afraid I do not know of you. You must have become a blade after I left.’

  ‘After you ran,’ Hondo murmured.

  Tellius smiled, though it was not a pleasant expression.

  ‘I did have a number of angry swordmasters clamouring for my head at the time. Were you never young, Master Hondo? Young men make mistakes they live to regret, if they are lucky. Sometimes they make peace, as well. I have done so, though it is no business of yours. Now, if you came here for me, I’m afraid you will be disappointed.’

  ‘I am the sword saint of Shiang,’ Hondo said, standing straighter. The other soldiers looked unimpressed, but Tellius blanched, taking a step back as Hondo kept speaking. ‘You cannot stop me, Yuan-Tellius. I have come far and seen the death of one companion and the wounding of another – all to bring you home for your crimes.’

  ‘I slept with a woman, Master Hondo,’ Tellius said indignantly. ‘A woman who was not at all unwilling, by the way.’

  ‘A woman who was queen at the time! Whose husband, your brother, was away at war! But this is no court, sir. I am not your judge. That lies before you. Now, I will take you back, or I will kill you here.’

  ‘You did not abandon your friend, even when you saw soldiers close the street,’ Tellius said quickly. ‘Will you leave him behind you to die now?’

  ‘My orders come before all other concerns,’ Hondo replied. He tightened his grip on the sword hilt and the room became very still. Tellius stood in the centre, by the bed, with Je behind him and Hondo on the far side.

  ‘Hellfire,’ Tellius said loudly.

  The result was a great hammer blow against the doorframe that caught Hondo by surprise as he drew his sword. For a single heartbeat, Hondo looked in astonishment at the huge green figure revealed in dust and broken plaster. The Sallet Green was somewhat more than an enclosed suit of green armour. Marked with sigils and gleaming with a green light, it stood taller than the man within and much faster. There had been six of them two years before. Only three were whole after that conflict, though Lady Sallet was working to restore a fourth. They were the greatest treasure of her house and each one was beyond price.

  Tellius had a better idea of a sword saint’s capabilities than anyone else in Darien. As he spoke the emergency signal, he threw himself down. He caught a glimpse of Hondo completing his draw and whipping a flash of light across where he had stood. Tellius felt a searing pain as the sword nicked his scalp. With a yelp, he crawled right under the bed. He had no idea where the other warrior was, nor his quality. One was bad enough. Tellius had forgotten the extraordinary grace of a Mazer swordsman. It was a little like seeing a bridge or a pasture of his childhood. It made him shake his head in delighted awe, even as blood trickled from the cut.

  Under the bed was the safest place in that room. The Sallet Green went for Hondo and was attacked from behind by the second swordsman. The two Sallet guards who had come in with Tellius were outclassed, but they attacked the twin. Tellius could hear blades ringing against armour while the whole room shook and trickled dust. Basker would be furious, of course, even if they didn’t bring the first floor down around his ears. The Sallet Greens were really heavy, Tellius recalled. They were better suited to a stone street than bouncing around on wooden joists above a tavern, but he’d wanted an edge no Shiang swordsman could possibly have expected. The decision had saved his life, he thought complacently, looking up at the underside of the springs. A sword saint! The single greatest swordsman from a city that revered skill with the long blade above all other concerns. In any other situation, it would have been a great honour to meet such a man, to hear his stories or see him perform. Tellius shrank away from a sight of that blade as it was driven down from above, missing him by a hair’s breadth. A great clang sounded after that and the sword was withdrawn. Tellius hoped the Sallet Green had really belted the man.

  When there had been silence for some time, Tellius edged out from his hiding place. The two nurses had pressed themselves against the wall, visibly trembling. It was a little strange to see the younger swordsman lying unconscious on the floor. The twin was bleeding from a torn ear, but he still looked eerily like the one Tellius had seen examined in the mortuary. Two Sallet soldiers stood over him, both of them looking terrified he might leap up once more. Tellius had saved their lives by bringing the Green with him, he realised. Judging by their expressions, they seemed to understand that.

  The Sallet Green had managed to disarm a sword saint of Shiang, Tellius thought in wonder. Perhaps he would find a moment to explain to the young soldier in the suit exactly what that meant. Not right then, though.

  The monstrous armoured figure held Hondo in a chair, pressing down hard on his chest so that he could not escape or wriggle free. One of the massive green legs was dragging and Tellius felt his eyes widen when he saw Hondo had managed to pierce the knee joint, so that blood showed on the armour. In just a few brief moments of savagery, the swordsman had seen a weakness and struck with enough precision to get past the protective plates as they moved together. It was astonishing. Tellius was almost proud of the achievement.

  The sword saint himself was panting hard, grazed and scuffed, with blood pouring from his nose. Yet Hondo was still alert enough to glare at Tellius as he stood up and dusted himself down. His sword lay beyond his reach, but he stretched for it in fury and frustration.

  Tellius strolled over and picked it up, admiring the black and orange stitching on the hilt. With a twist of his fingers, Tellius removed the bamboo token that bound hilt and blade together. He tossed the hilt down and examined the maker’s mark on the long tang he had revealed. The blade was a masterpiece, rippled in a thousand folds on the forge, impossibly strong. Hondo became very still and Tellius smiled at him.

  ‘Don’t worry. I would never destroy something so beautiful.’ He
picked up the hilt and fitted the pieces together again with expert hands. ‘There. I will return it to you when you leave Darien.’

  ‘I cannot leave without you,’ Hondo said.

  His teeth were stained in blood, Tellius saw. The Sallet Green officer had been forced to hit him really hard to put him down.

  ‘I think you will. If I had more time … but it is what it is. Here is my offer. Your life, and that of your companions. I will keep you safe and warm in the cells of the Sallet estate while your friend heals. I will hold your swords for you until you stand outside the walls of Darien, forbidden from entering ever again. Do you understand, or did my green friend here knock the wits out of you?’

  ‘I understand,’ Hondo grated. ‘I think it is you who do not …’

  ‘Excellent,’ Tellius interrupted. ‘How is my nephew, anyway? You know, I never even met him. He was born after I left.’

  ‘King Yuan-Choji was delighted to find out where you had hidden yourself,’ Hondo said. ‘He blames you for his father’s death, a man he adored. His mother took her own life to follow her husband, leaving a broken boy to rule with a regent until he was grown. The king considers you a traitor, Yuan-Tellius. He has never stopped looking for you, never. Consider that when you are telling me so proudly what you will do. If I do not return you to Shiang for punishment, you will see an army march against Darien. What will you do then? Can your single green warrior hold back a sea?’

  Hondo saw Tellius grow pale suddenly, as if he had been struck. He could not understand why his words had had such an effect.

  ‘Darien has other defences, Master Hondo,’ Tellius snapped. ‘And if you ever see them, it will be your last day.’

  He calmed himself with an effort, putting his head out of the door to call more of the Sallet officers. The guard captain who entered looked intrigued. Hondo watched closely, seeing the king’s uncle was treated with respect in that place. Tellius had risen far, it seemed, to command such forces. Hondo looked into the eyes of the green warrior who had moved like the wind. He saw only his own reflection. He wondered how Bosin would have fared against the thing.